“From the film crit cartel’s most cretinous hack,
The straw that broke the camel’s back” — Keats
“Labuza lavishes lousy, lopsided, illegible logorrhea on illustrious celluloid luminaries while leeching off the lionized legacies of like-minded lunatics and laboring over lengthy lackluster lists” — unknown
This shill for charlatanism has plagued film criticism with writing too execrable to warrant the usual charges – of insipidness, redundancy, inscrutability. No, Labuza sinks lower. This is regurgitative writing that unthinkingly intakes every cumbersome vestige of an already bankrupt auteurism, digests them into bilious slop, and acid-refluxes the whole vile mess into syntactically diseased landfills of rancid prose – frayed word salads bereft of garnish that no health-conscious reader would think to consume. The average shitty writer – especially one that writes for any one of the milquetoast online publications that count Labuza as a regular contributor – knows, at the very least, the basic nuts and bolts of constructing a sentence. Subject-verb agreement. Keeping your tense straight. Just the basics. Well, Labuza apparently pole-vaulted over all of these grade-school fundamentals and crashed right into academia’s Ivory Tower. No other illustration of white privilege is necessary, folks. This is, after all, the charisma cavity whose pipsqueak parroting of broadcaster-speak landed him the Internet’s #1 film podcast, a platform for inflicting feeble, dry-throated live-readings of his own hideous reviews on guests whose feats of endurance are apparently compensated by the officious fanboy reverence they get in return. A sick dynamic, indeed. The cinephilia-industrial complex is as corrupted as any of the others, and Labuza is its beaming poster boy.